Under the Radar
by Esther-Channah
Summary: When Bruce Wayne finds himself in a bit of legal trouble in New York, he discovers that good attorneys are easy to find, but hard to keep in the dark—even when they're blind!
1. Prologue

A/N: Just an idea I've had kicking around...

A/N: Thanks to Kathy for the beta!

Disclaimer: Batman/Bruce Wayne was created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger and is owned by DC Comics. Dick Grayson was created by Bob Kane, Bill Finger, and Jerry Robinson and is owned by DC Comics. Nightwing was created by Marv Wolfman and George Perez and is the property of DC Comics. Daredevil was created by Stan Lee and Bill Everett and is the property of Marvel Comics. I am receiving no financial remuneration for this work of fanfiction.

Timeline: Daredevil near the end of Volume 1. Batman post-Knightsend, pre-No Man's Land.

**Under the Radar**

"Wow," Dick said. "So, what did you say?"

Bruce shook his head, walked to the hotel window, and pushed aside the draperies with his hand, and looked out on Water Street. "What could I say? I couldn't very well tell him the truth."

Dick laughed. "Yeah. I guess, 'The reason they found my fingerprints in that office was because I needed someplace secluded to get out of my costume' wouldn't have gone over too well." His expression turned serious. "You just had to find an office that someone had burglarized, right?"

Bruce scowled. "It wasn't burglarized. Someone got in, hacked the computer and, presumably, copied confidential data that will give them an advantage in the stock market over the next little while. The hacker got sloppy and triggered an alert. There are security cameras in the office; I was able to detect them and shield myself appropriately. Unfortunately, that made the presence of my fingerprints appear all the more suspicious."

"Wait... wouldn't they have caught the hacker, too?"

"They did," Bruce sighed. "Male, about my height and build, wearing a knitted cap pulled low over his head and a bulky jacket. They didn't get his face. But they did get mine."

"I thought you said you were shielded."

"In the office," Bruce replied. "Once I was back in street clothes, I headed back to the banquet hall to rejoin the others. As soon as I was out of the restricted zone, I turned off the jammer. And..."

"Don't tell me," Dick groaned. "You missed a camera."

"Oracle's information about the building's security systems appears to have been out of date," Bruce replied. "There was at least one camera that doesn't show up on the most-recently-uploaded floor plan. There could be more. However, the relevant device was facing the door that led to that restricted zone. It was about halfway down the hall. The fact that it captured me looking around to ensure that the coast was clear did not help my case." He shook his head. "The police questioned me. I thought I could handle it without an attorney present. Rae's vacationing in the Alps right now. While she would have cut that short and flown in, she probably wouldn't have made it to New York before tomorrow." He held up a hand irritably. "I know. Don't say it. So, after they accepted that they didn't have enough evidence to hold me, they advised me not to leave town—_and_ to find a good lawyer. I thought someone local might be to my advantage and Nelson and Murdock came highly recommended."

Dick nodded. "Okay, that makes sense. So you dropped by their offices..."

"I called first," Bruce corrected him. "I wasn't going to waste my time if they couldn't see me today, but I was told that Murdock could fit me in. He listened to my story and then..."

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne." Matt Murdock rolled his chair back several inches from the desk, as though he wished to distance himself physically from the situation. "I can't assist you."<em>

_Bruce's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I don't understand."_

"_Neither do I," Murdock said in a voice that was calm, yet bristling with suppressed anger. "You come into my office with a serious issue. You realize that the situation puts you in a bad light. I tell you that in order to help you, I need to understand the facts of the case. And yet, Mr. Wayne, not only have you left out information that could be vital; you've lied to me twice in the space of ten minutes."_

_Bruce flinched. "I..."_

"_Can you tell me what you were doing in that area?"_

_Bruce was silent._

"_Mr. Wayne? I'm blind, remember? I can't tell if you're nodding or shaking your head. I need you to answer me."_

_Bruce sighed. "I told you," he repeated. "I took a wrong turn."_

"_Get out."_

* * *

><p>"Wow," Dick repeated. "So, did you find someone else?"<p>

Bruce shook his head. "By then, it was after four. I called a few other firms, but they weren't able to fit me in at that hour. They invited me to book an appointment, but the earliest time any of them could see me would be next week. I suppose," he added dryly, "that if their services are in such high demand, one can hope that they'll get results." He sighed. "At this point, I'm tempted to call Rae after all."

"Has she been to the Alps before?"

"I don't believe so."

"She'll hate you if she has to cut her trip short."

"I know." Bruce sighed again. "I suppose," he said, "it couldn't hurt to go back and check out that office again. The hacker might have left something incriminating behind."

"Mmmhmm," Dick nodded. "Just the hacker?"

Bruce made a face. "I doubt I was any sloppier than I already know," he retorted. "But another sweep of the room probably wouldn't go amiss."

"Want some backup?"

"Not tonight," Bruce said. "Get some sleep. Or patrol if you're feeling restless. I'll see you later."

Dick resisted the urge to tell him to be careful. Bruce had to be kicking himself enough already. Saying something like that would only set the bigger man off, and they'd been getting along so well lately. He sighed, reached for the phone, and dialed a number.

"Donna?" He grinned at the pleasure in her voice. "Hey, yourself. I'm in New York for a few days. Business trip and father-son bonding. Only Bruce had something else to do tonight. Did you want to—yeah, sure, coffee sounds great. See you in an hour? Looking forward..."

* * *

><p>Batman swung across the Manhattan skyline, drawing ever closer to the offices of Baron and Baron Trading. He angrily suppressed a thought about the guilty party always returning to the scene of the crime. He needed answers and there was only one place he could get them.<p>

The building was coming into view now. He frowned, trying to pinpoint the office through which he'd entered earlier that day. It had been on the west side, thirty-one floors up, but had it been the eighth window from the left or... _the ninth_. He cast his grappling line, sailed across the street, and dropped lightly to the window sill. Under his cowl, his face hardened. Someone was there ahead of him.


	2. Chapter 1

Thanks to Kathy and Debbie for the beta!

**Chapter 1**

At first, Batman thought that his earlier musings about culprits returning to the scene of the crime had been accurate, but on a closer look, he recognized his error. The hacker, as he'd told Dick, had been about his height and build. This intruder was slimmer and lithe instead of muscular. Did the hacker have an accomplice? Whoever was inside, they were wearing something tight and form-fitting, though it was too dark to make out more than that. They also weren't using a flashlight or any other form of illumination.

"Enable night vision lenses," he said softly. In response to his voice command, there was a soft tone. A moment later, the lenses of his cowl shifted to green and he heard a low-pitched whine as the shapes and contours of the room before him came into clearer focus.

Beneath his mask, Batman's eyes narrowed. The intruder was wearing a cowled suit, much like his own, minus a cape. There was some sort of weapon in a holster strapped to his thigh. Sprouting from the cowl were two small devil horns. Batman's face set in an angry scowl. New York was lousy with costumes, both of the crime-fighting and the criminal variety—which begged the question: which one was this?

Ally or enemy, who knew what sort of mess they might make of the crime scene? He had to get inside before there was nothing left for him to find. He thought for a moment. Baron and Baron was in an older building; one where the windows could actually be opened. There were three of them opening into the office he needed to access. Batman swung lightly to the next window sill—the one that would give him the clearest path to the door, should he need access to the rest of the building. Then, from a compartment in his utility belt, he extracted a small set of burglar's tools and set to work. It might be thirty-one floors up, but the windows were still wired and Batman had no intention of tripping any alarms tonight.

* * *

><p>It took Daredevil a moment to place the heartbeat. It wasn't one he was overly familiar with and the window glass muffled it slightly, but then, he'd encountered it only a few hours earlier and it was still relatively fresh in his mind. Beneath his cowl, his eyebrows lifted. <em>You are just full of surprises, Mr. Wayne<em>, he thought to himself. A moment later, he registered two more sounds: the whine of night vision goggles and the clean snap of copper wire parting between tungsten-carbide shears. While the whine didn't diminish, it was soon complemented by the nails-on-a-chalkboard effect of steel on glass. After taking out the burglar alarm, Wayne was using a glass cutter on the window pane.

He frowned. Whatever Wayne was wearing tonight, it wasn't the attire he'd worn at their earlier appointment. A cloak—or perhaps, a cape—flowed behind him, obscuring the contours of his body. There were two protuberances rising from his head and tapering to points. His frown deepened. He'd never been to Gotham City before. He'd heard of some of the people who operated there on either side of the law, but he had no idea who he was facing tonight. News stories often emphasized visual description, when they didn't rely on photos and video to enhance the coverage—and phrases like "wearing a purple suit" or "trailing a jet-black cape" were worse than useless to him.

Daredevil sighed. Until he knew whether he was facing a friend or a foe, he didn't want to engage. That didn't mean that he was about to withdraw until he knew what Wayne was after. He heard the faint scrape as a piece of glass came free of the window—Wayne must have had a suction cup on it, for it didn't fall—and felt the night breeze come through the hole it left behind. A moment later came the click of a latch and the creak as the window eased open.

He waited until Wayne entered through the open window. Then, in one quick stride, Daredevil moved to the opposite wall... and flicked on the lights.

Almost instantly, he was rewarded by an angry snarl, as Wayne reeled back, his arm over his eyes. Night-vision goggles had one very-easy-to-exploit vulnerability. Daredevil pulled his billy-club out of its holster. "You're a long way from Gotham," he said evenly. "Care to explain?"

He heard something whistle through the air and dodged on instinct as a small object flew past him and embedded in the wall. "I'll take that as a 'no,'" he said, holding onto one part of the club and hurling the other. Airline cable extended between the two pieces and streaked toward his adversary's legs, but the caped figure leaped upward and out of the club's trajectory.

"I suppose you're here to cover your tracks," Wayne intoned, as he flipped to a landing several feet away from him. His voice was harsh and gravelly. Had he not been positive of the identity of the man before him, Daredevil doubted that he would have connected the voice he was hearing now with that of the man who'd been in his office earlier. Pheromones and heartbeat didn't lie, though.

"Funny," Daredevil shot back, as he reeled club and cable back in, "I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Wayne stood there silently, as though expecting his mere presence to be intimidating. Daredevil sighed. "I don't suppose we can talk this over?"

"I have no quarrel with you," Wayne replied. "Just stay out of this." He moved toward the computer station.

"Sorry," Daredevil said, touching the control on the billy-club to separate the two halves and retract the cable. "Not happening." He advanced slowly. It wasn't lost on him that Wayne's attacks were aimed more to warn him off than actually hurt him. While he appreciated the thought, there was no way that he was letting the man get anywhere near that computer.

"Have it your way," Wayne replied. Quick as a cat, his hand shot out and grabbed one of the club-halves.

Without missing a beat, Daredevil smashed the other one down over the caped man's knuckles. There was a harsh hiss of pain.

Wayne released the club, dropped, and swept a kick toward Daredevil's legs. Daredevil flipped out of range, then surged forward again, clubs ready for battle. This time, Batman feinted and countered with a pressure point strike. Daredevil winced as his right arm went numb. Fortunately, he smiled, he was left-handed. He thumbed the button to release the cable, gripped its end, and whipped the weighted club toward Wayne's torso. Wayne dodged. The club kept going. An instant later, the sound of shattering glass filled the air—followed almost immediately by a security alarm.

Both men swore. Then Wayne shoved him hard in his left shoulder and took off through the empty window frame.

Daredevil stumbled, recovered his footing, and followed quickly, casting his club into the night and snagging a nearby flagpole. From there, he swung himself up to a nearby rooftop. He listened intently and frowned. There was too much noise, too many people, and with the office alarm still ringing in his ears, he couldn't detect Wayne's heartbeat anymore. He sighed. So far, this wasn't turning out to be one of his better nights.

Across the street, the alarm shut off and Daredevil relaxed for a moment. Then he realized that he was still hearing another sound, very close by, and just a touch softer than a heartbeat; a kind of intermittent beeping. His jaw hardened. He spent the next few minutes listening to see if he could find Wayne's heartbeat once more, even as he tried to tune out the beeping. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, but was probably more like about five minutes, the effect the nerve strike wore off and he brought his right hand to his left shoulder to remove the tracer that his adversary had tagged him with before leaping out the window.

"Nice try, Mr. Wayne," he said under his breath as he ground the device beneath his boot heel, "but no cigar."

* * *

><p>Dick had just gotten back from meeting with Donna when Bruce returned to the hotel room. "Uh-oh," he said, taking in his mentor's demeanor at a glance. "I take it tonight did not go well."<p>

Bruce stalked over to the twin bed nearest the window and sat down, a disgusted look on his face. "You've spent more time in this city than I have. What do you know about Daredevil?"

Dick blinked. "Well, it's not like we've worked together; more like waved to one another when we happen to pass by. He's good, though," he continued seriously. "In both senses of the word. Martial arts, boxing, and acrobatics; not to mention those billy-clubs. Not too big on gadgets and no apparent meta powers. Oh, and left-handed. Why?"

Bruce sucked in air and let it out. "He was there tonight. At Baron and Baron. We... had an altercation."

"Oh?"

Bruce sighed. "The office was dark. I saw him moving around and assumed that it was either the hacker or an accomplice." Briefly, he related what had happened. "Of course, I'd reviewed the files on known Capes operating in this city—on both sides of the law—before coming here, but the costumed population in Manhattan alone is over 700 percent of Gotham's and having a photographic memory means that I remember all the data I read. It doesn't mean that I can necessarily retrieve that data in a split second." He shook his head. "Initially, it was too dark to identify the costume. Then, after he pulled that stunt with the lights, I wasn't seeing much besides spots. It wasn't until I got out of there and plugged his details into the Batmobile's computer that I realized who I'd encountered. I lost the tracer's signal a few minutes later." He made a face. "If he hadn't been wearing a devil costume, I might have realized sooner that we were on the same side."

"Says the guy who dresses like a bat."

Bruce's lips twitched. "Point."

"I wonder what he was doing at Baron and Baron," Dick remarked. "I can see how, in light of what happened today, they might have wanted to bring in extra security, but Daredevil's not exactly part of Heroes for Hire."

"He might have some connection with the firm," Bruce said thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, his voice did sound a bit familiar. He could well have been at the meet-and-greet I attended yesterday morning, before I slipped off." A faint smile came and went as he continued talking. "I know this much: if someone had broken into _my_ company, _I'd_ certainly do my own investigation later that night, when things were quieter." He nodded again. "I believe that I'll have Oracle run a check on the Baron family; she may turn something up."

"Uh huh. Wait." Dick frowned. "You said Daredevil wasn't using a flashlight. Did he have night-vision lenses, too?"

"He must have," Bruce said wearily. "He could have turned them off just before he hit the lights... No," he sat up straighter. "Wait. Even if he had, his eyes should have still needed time to adjust, but he didn't hesitate for a moment." He thought for a moment. "If his lenses can compensate automatically for sudden changes in illumination... That might explain it." He exhaled softly. "Something of that nature would be extremely beneficial," he mused. "I wonder if there's a patent out."

"Now, why do I think that Waynetech's R&D department is going to get some new instructions?" Dick grinned.

"It's a useful invention," Bruce pointed out. "I'm sure you can see the applications for the military, as well as law enforcement, security..."

"Showing up Stark Industries?"

Bruce assumed a self-righteous expression. "That was the farthest thing from my mind," he snorted. At Dick's raised eyebrows, he added under his breath, "And it would have been even farther from it if they hadn't secured the last four government contracts that Waynetech competed for."

Dick grinned. "Thought so!"

* * *

><p>Matt was in the office early the next morning. Although his fingers moved rapidly over the Braille transcripts, had someone interrupted him, he would have been hard-put to explain exactly what he was reading. He listened impatiently for the elevator and, when the doors parted, a familiar foot-tread. As Foggy drew closer, Matt sighed. Going by the crunching, crackling, and smell of chemical preservatives, Foggy hadn't waited to get to his office before opening the bag of cheese puffs today. He'd also stopped at the deli on his way in; Matt could smell chipotle barbecue sauce, cheddar, and beef. His partner was clearly planning to eat lunch at his desk. He hoped the weather would hold up, because once that sandwich came out of its waxed paper wrapper, it was going to graduate from annoyance to full-blown health hazard and Matt meant to be down at one of his favorite lunch counters before Foggy dug in, if at all possible.<p>

"Matt?" Foggy poked his head into the doorway. "I wasn't expecting you to be in ahead of me."

Matt pushed away the transcript and smiled. "To be honest, I wasn't either," he admitted. "I know you put in longer hours than I do and I was hoping to catch you before the day got underway."

Foggy sank into the chair in front of Matt's desk. "I've got 45 minutes before my first appointment and it's a new client, so there's nothing to review ahead of time. What's up?"

"Well," Matt sighed, "You remember my four o'clock? The one I threw out of here yesterday?"

Foggy tilted his head to one side. "The Gotham billionaire who would have paid any fees and expenses we asked without flinching or attempting to negotiate? The one who could have kept us in clover for a few months? The guy with the potential to send a lot of business our way, particularly if his company _is_ looking at opening up a branch in our fair city? No, Matt. I can't say I do."

Matt sighed again. "It just didn't add up. He was hiding something major. When I caught him, he didn't try to bluster his way out of it, I'll give him that. He stuck to his story and he was a lot calmer about it than most of the people I catch that way. Startled, not defensive."

"Okay," Foggy said slowly. "So..."

Matt hesitated. Although Foggy had recently found out about his double life, Matt wasn't about to confide such details about other 'costumes' to him, no matter what side they were on. "So," he said slowly, considering how much to divulge, "I went back to Baron and Baron last night to see if I could find something that would tell me why Wayne would have lied to me. I had company."

Foggy waited. After a moment of silence, he let out a long-suffering sigh. "You really aren't going to continue until I ask, are you?" Matt could hear the resignation in his voice when he continued, "Fine. Who?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," Matt admitted.

"Excuse me?"

"It was someone in a costume. Not local. At least, nobody I know. If he has a connection with Wayne's predicament, I'd say it's a safe assumption he's from Gotham. Trouble is, I don't know who he was. We didn't really get around to introducing ourselves."

"And you think I can help, because..."

"Because if I describe what my senses were able to make out of the intruder and his costume, there's a chance that you'll recognize it from images that you've seen before." He smiled. "Be my eyes?"

"Pass me a pad and pen. I'll take notes." Matt handed them over. Foggy took a deep breath and poised the tip of the pen at the top of the page. "Okay, what do you got?"

"Male, mid-to-late thirties, about six-two, two hundred and ten pounds—most of it muscle..."

Foggy's pen scratched on the pad. "Got that. So, we know it's not Poison Ivy or Penguin."

"Long cape, full, scalloped edges. He's got a cowl, too. With horns, or maybe ears, but not much like mine. They'd be about," he held his index fingers several inches apart, "yea long and pointed."

Foggy's heart rate sped up. "I think I know," he said slowly, "but keep going. Anything else?"

"Yeah. I think he gets off on intimidation. He was definitely trying to strong-arm me into backing down, and he's got a voice with more gravel than a stretch of country road. Menacing. He's got combat skills—good ones; knows about pressure points for one thing, and he strikes to incapacitate—not kill. At least, he wasn't trying to kill _me_, last night."

"Okay, even if it wasn't for the costume, that should tell us it wasn't Joker or Deathstroke. Pretty sure I do know, but keep going."

"He also uses some kind of irregularly-shaped throwing knife. It's bigger than a shuriken, um... ninja star—"

"Hey, I watched Ninja Turtles, too; I _know _what a shuriken is."

Matt smiled at that. "I would have taken one to look at later, but things went south fast and I had to get out of there. He pinned some sort of tracer on me; I got rid of it. Then someone put a brick through a car window to try to lift a stereo and I got back to work. So?" He lifted his glasses slightly and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Does any of that strike any chords with you?"

"I think so," Foggy said slowly, with a note of awe in his voice. "I think," he said again, "you just met Batman."

* * *

><p>Bruce made up his mind not to attend the second day of the conference. By now, news of his indiscretion would have circulated through Baron and Baron and, although part of him wanted to show up smiling and joking, making it seem as though yesterday had been an embarrassing misunderstanding, he knew that he needed this time to try to come up with a strategy to clear his name. And, he realized, he still needed to secure legal representation. He'd give it until five this afternoon. And then, if he hadn't found an attorney willing to see him by the end of the week, he was going to have to bite the bullet and call his regular attorney, who—as Dick had rightly surmised—would not be at all pleased to have to cut her vacation short and come down to New York.<p>

"Will you please go for a walk or something?" Dick's voice broke into his thoughts. "You're giving me a headache with that drumming."

Bruce snatched his hand away from the desk guiltily. He hadn't realized that he'd been tapping his fingers on its surface. It was a bad habit he'd picked up as a child and thought he'd broken long ago. "Sorry."

"Finger-tapping, glowering while in civvies, _and _an apology?" Dick's smile belied the concern in his voice. "You're not coming down with anything, are you?"

For a moment, Bruce's glower deepened. Then he sighed. "This is not my city. If it were, I wouldn't find myself in this situation. I don't like being caught off-guard. I don't like being in a place that is just enough like Gotham to make me feel... off-kilter when things don't play out as anticipated." He shook his head. "Had this happened in Gotham, there would be contingency plans in play, which would have worked, in no small part, simply because of who I am. I don't have the same cachet here and it's costing me." He sighed again. "And there are far too many 'capes' to keep track of."

Dick walked over to Bruce and placed a hand on his shoulder. "So, you didn't recognize Daredevil. Big deal. It's not like he commutes to Gotham every other week."

"It's not just that." Bruce let his eyes close for a moment. "I think I really do detest these situations where I could clear my name in a heartbeat by admitting that I was Batman, and I'm not sure if I can do so any other way—and _no_, I am not thinking of admitting it."

"I know _that_," Dick grinned. "Admitting things isn't your style. I mean, you still haven't admitted that you let Alfred pick out my last birthday present."

"I chose the color."

"Bruce, it was a Maserati. It could have been lime green with pink polka dots and I would have loved it." He gave Bruce's shoulder a squeeze. "Though I will state for the record that blue was a good choice."

They shared a smile.

There was a knock on the door to their suite.

Dick raised an eyebrow. "I can get that. It'll give you time to jump out the window if it's the cops with a warrant."

Bruce waved him away. "I'll do it." He strode to the door and checked the peephole.

Dick heard his surprised grunt just before he pulled the door open. "Mr. Murdock," he said curtly. "What are you doing here?"


	3. Chapter 2

Thanks to Kathy and Debbie for the beta!

**Chapter 2**

Matt straightened his tie and did his best to appear apologetic. "You aren't an easy person to track down, Mr. Wayne," he said. "I... was under some undue pressure yesterday and I think that might have colored my behavior at our meeting. I believe I owe you an apology." He smiled diffidently. "May I come in?"

Bruce regarded the other man for a moment. One eyebrow shot up, but he moved aside and opened the door wider. He took a moment to introduce Dick, wondering briefly when Murdock's smile broadened.

"If you turn around, there's a desk chair at two o'clock five or six steps away," Bruce offered. "Let me understand this," he said as he sat down on his bed. "You no longer think I was lying to you?"

Matt shook his head. "No, I know you were. I may have jumped to conclusions about how relevant your less-than-full disclosure might be to your case." He hesitated for effect. "In point of fact, I've been reliably informed that Baron and Baron had an unexpected visitor or two last night." He fought not to smile. Wayne was good at keeping his reactions in check. Had Matt not been observing him closely, he might well have overlooked the slight spike in his heart rate. He made a mental note to warn Clint Barton never to play poker with this man.

"Oh?" Bruce said, sounding only vaguely interested.

Matt nodded. "To be frank, when a potential client is less than straight with me, under most circumstances, I turn them down."

"Most circumstances," Bruce repeated.

"I do a fair amount of pro bono work," Matt said, "often with clients who feel they have no reason to trust the justice system and thus, no reason to cooperate with it. Obviously, you don't fit that category."

"Then...?"

Matt took a deep breath. "Daredevil vouches for you. He had his own reasons for checking out the crime scene and I've become aware that he's uncovered a few details that shed a new light on your situation."

Bruce's eyebrow shot up again. "Did he, now?" he asked. "Might I ask what?"

"I'd prefer to discuss it in more businesslike surroundings," Matt said smoothly. "Shall we say in my office? Around noon?"

There was that heart rate jump again, though there was no hint of undue concern in the other man's voice. "I believe I do have time at that hour," he replied. "I'll meet you there, then."

* * *

><p>Once Murdock had left, Bruce turned to Dick. "You didn't tell me you knew him," he said.<p>

Dick blinked. "I don't."

"Are you sure?" Bruce asked, frowning.

"Sure, I'm sure," Dick said. "Why?"

Bruce frowned. "Because when he came in, I got the feeling that he recognized you..."

* * *

><p>Sometimes, Matt thought that the Fantastic Four had the right idea when it came to secret identities: forget the 'secret' part of it. He'd been ready to tell Wayne that he'd figured out exactly who he'd been fighting with last night and he had a pretty good idea as to why. Oh, he didn't know the particulars, of course, but clearly there was something shady going on at Baron and Baron and Wayne had been looking into it. Perhaps, Wayne had believed that it would be easier to investigate in his civilian identity; perhaps, there was some other explanation, but something had gone wrong and his presence had been detected, so he'd gone back after hours as Batman.<p>

Under the circumstances, he would have had no problem coming clean to Wayne about his own costumed identity. The problem was, Wayne hadn't been alone in his hotel room.

Matt couldn't say that he knew Nightwing; it was more accurate to say that he knew _of_ him—as leader of the Teen Titans. He had first encountered that team several years earlier, after his move back from San Francisco. They'd been operating in New York for a bit before that, but the team of super-powered youths tended to deal with situations more serious than the street-level threats that were his specialty. Still, on his return to New York he'd done his best to catch up on what the other Costumes had been up to.

At the time, the news reports had been buzzing about Nightwing having replaced Robin as leader of the Teen Titans, while Robin seemed to have relocated back to Gotham. The name had meant nothing to Matt and he'd had a few concerns about a neophyte hero possibly getting in over his head. So, one night, he'd observed the team in action and discovered that, whoever else this Nightwing might be, he definitely knew what he was doing. After that, Daredevil had left them to their devices and gone about his own business. And if, occasionally, they encountered one another, things never went further than a friendly wave or other casual greeting. Still, he'd swung by Nightwing enough to note his distinctive heartbeat in passing.

He'd recognized it in the hotel room just now. And while Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson obviously knew each other, and Batman and Nightwing often worked together, Bruce Wayne might not _necessarily _know that Dick Grayson was Nightwing, or vice versa. At first glance, the odds were remote, but then again, there was a reason why they called them 'secret identities'. He and Spider-Man had known each other for years before they'd learned each other's identities and he _still_ didn't know a number of the Avengers in civilian life. Maybe the odds weren't that remote.

In any event, even if Matt hadn't officially taken Wayne's case yet, he was still going to apply attorney-client privilege and not discuss sensitive information in front of a third party, unless Wayne gave his direct consent. Hence, the noon meeting at his office.

Matt smiled. Foggy would be pleased about that, at least.

He stopped at Dean & DeLuca on his way back to the office and picked up a selection of teas and coffees. Wayne would probably expect the best and Matt was always glad of an excuse to indulge his passion for gourmet.

* * *

><p>"Am I catching you at a good time?" Barbara asked when Bruce answered his cell.<p>

Bruce checked his watch. Manhattan traffic could be dicey, but something in him rebelled against taking the subway when he wasn't in disguise. He wished that Alfred could have come with him this time—the butler had a talent for navigating city streets that was, perhaps, matched only by the most reckless of cabbies—but Tim was looking after Gotham by himself in Batman's absence, and the newest Robin was still a bit wet behind the ears. Bruce might have _wanted_ Alfred to come to New York, but Tim _needed_ him in Gotham. "I have a few minutes," he said, knowing that he would have to call for a taxi soon, if he was to make it to Nelson and Murdock on time. "What have you found out?"

"Well," Barbara said, "your hunch was right. Lewis Baron, grandson of the CEO and currently AVP Customer Support, could be your guy. You've probably heard of him; he was considered a strong candidate for the US Olympic men's gymnastics team a few years back, but missed qualifying by a tenth of a point. Had a similar problem qualifying for the Pan Am Games, too. He's a bit on the short side, mind you, but there are ways around that."

Bruce nodded thoughtfully. "So he's known in athletic circles, but stays just enough under the radar not to be considered a top athlete."

"That's right. He officially retired from competitions a couple of years ago, when he was twenty-six and decided to devote himself to his family business fulltime. The media barely noticed. However, he does have skills. And smarts; he did a double degree Business Administration and Computing. He's twenty-eight, now; still young enough to be in this game."

"This is hardly a game," Bruce countered absently. He tried to place the name among the executives he'd met a day earlier, but couldn't. That didn't necessarily mean anything; an AVP Customer Support was no top-level executive. "Do you have a photo?"

"Sending," Oracle replied crisply.

"See what you can find out about how frequently Daredevil has been spotted in or around Baron and Baron," Bruce sighed. It wouldn't prove anything. His own patrols covered all of Gotham and, while he did, in fact, often gravitate toward the Old City Hall district, it wasn't because of Wayne Enterprises. GCPD headquarters was there, too. Still, if Baron and Baron enjoyed regular visits from a 'guardian devil', it would be one more thing to file away pending further evidence.

"Will do, Boss-man." She sounded a bit distracted. "Sorry, Bruce. JSA call coming in on a priority channel. Can I let you go?"

"Of course," Bruce replied. "I'll phone after I've reviewed the data." He ended the call.

Bruce studied the photos and the accompanying statistics carefully. Daredevil had been moving about too much for Bruce to get a fix on his height, last night. He guessed him to be in the neighborhood of six feet, though, perhaps five-eleven. Baron was five-eight; tall for a gymnast, but Barbara was right: he was probably a bit short for Daredevil. Probably. The office had been dark, Bruce had been off his game, and his vision had been affected by Daredevil's trick with the lights.

Still... No, he decided. Unless Lewis Baron wore some sort of lifts in his boots to give him additional height, he was not the man that Bruce had fought last night. And while lifts could easily add an inch or two, four inches would be far more noticeable. Bruce had learned that very little was truly impossible, but it occurred to him that he might be trying a bit too hard to make a square peg fit a round hole. He wasn't yet ready to eliminate Lewis Baron as a possible Daredevil candidate, but he was downgrading him.

He called Barbara back. "After reviewing the data," he said, "I believe we should keep looking. Narrow the search to candidates ranging from five-eleven to six-one and..." he reflected for a moment, "...one-ninety-five to two-oh-five pounds."

He ended the call on her acknowledgment. Then he picked up the room phone and made another call. This one was to the front desk—to order a cab.

* * *

><p>In Murdock's office, Bruce declined the offer of coffee. "I have to admit," he said, "I'm a bit puzzled by your change of heart. When we spoke yesterday, you were extremely clear on where you stood."<p>

Murdock nodded. "That was before I realized that there was more going on than what there seemed to be at first glance," he said.

Bruce frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."

"I'm not sure I do myself," Murdock admitted. "However, since then, I've learned that both Daredevil and Batman were spotted at Baron and Baron last night. It would appear that if, as you claim, you're an innocent bystander in all of this, you've gotten yourself involved in something a bit more serious than it appeared on the surface. I only know Batman by reputation, but that reputation tells me I wouldn't want to be on his bad side. I know Daredevil somewhat better—we have something of a working relationship. That is to say, I know him well enough to know that you don't want to cross him either. If you're on both of their radars, Mr. Wayne, you are in some serious trouble. I can help you," he added, "but I'll need to know everything you can tell me about how things got to this point. If you've been operating under some kind of duress," Bruce got the impression that Murdock was fighting not to laugh, "and that's the reason that you couldn't be straight with me, I'll need to know that too."

"And if I were to tell you," Bruce said slowly, keeping his amusement out of his own voice and trying to sound dismayed, "that I'd love to tell you what you want to hear, but unfortunately, I can't?"

Murdock was still smiling. "Then odds are that you've got enough on your plate already without adding in the need to secure legal representation. I'll take your case." He extended his hand toward across the desk. Bruce shook it.

"Right," Murdock said, "I'll have my administrative assistant draw up the papers and we can get to work." He got up from behind his desk, rising to his full height. "If you'll accompany me...?"

As Bruce got up, his eyes narrowed. It occurred to him that Murdock stood about six feet tall. And as he came around to get the door, Bruce noted a looseness to his stride that one generally saw only in trained martial artists. It was then that he realized why Daredevil's voice had been familiar to him last night.

"Mr. Murdock," he said slowly, "there is one thing that you should know. Batman is not investigating my involvement. You see, he and I have... something of a working relationship."

"Ah," Murdock said, "so a bit like mine with Daredevil."

"Actually," Bruce replied, "I'd say it's _exactly_ like yours with Daredevil."

Murdock smiled. "Now that we've got that out of the way, once you've filled out the paperwork, I think we'll need to sit back down and compare notes. I know this city a bit better than you do—and I don't just mean geographically. Tell me, Mr. Wayne," he paused, one hand on his cane, the other on the doorknob, "how much do you know about a man named Wilson Fisk?"


End file.
